Night in Ashenfen never truly slept.
After the fire dimmed to a patient glow, the dark elves drifted away from Luke and Ilyrana's small camp, their movements quiet enough that the forest itself seemed to part for them. They did not announce it, nor did they feel the need to. One moment they were there—silent silhouettes outlined by ember-light—and the next, they were gone, settling farther out among the trees where the undergrowth thickened and the shadows grew deeper.
Luke noticed, of course. He always did.
"They really like their space," he muttered, adjusting the strap of his pack as he sat against a fallen log.
Ilyrana smiled faintly, drawing her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
"It's a habit," she said. "And comfort. Dark elves prefer to sleep where they can see without being seen."
